


First Snow and Mistletoe

by kancake



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Christmas, Cute, Fluff, M/M, awkwardstuck, everything is happy here, fuck sadstuck okay, sadstuck is for lame butts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-09
Updated: 2011-12-11
Packaged: 2017-10-27 02:53:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/290865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kancake/pseuds/kancake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shameless fluffy, awkward, happy, two shot Christmas fic because we need a little happiness in this pairing right now okay.</p><p>So why not Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Christmas.  
> Happy.  
> Awkwardstuck.
> 
> Dedicated to literally anyone who has had enough John/Dave sadstuck.
> 
> Also inspired by two separate fic suggestions from anons on tumblr!!  
> ps my ask box is still open to anything about Dave/John you ever want to say okay?  
> okay????  
> wink wink  
> nudge

It's fucking cold, you acknowledge. This is not exactly the biggest surprise ever, since you are visiting Washington and it is winter.

You'd previously made the mistake of answering, when asked, that usually Bro and you spend the holidays alone, and you really don't do anything for the occasion. More like his gift is he doesn't challenge you to strife, and yours is that you bother to make something besides cup noodles to eat for the day (or you bother to put them in a bowl, at the very least.)

John was _horrified_ at this confession, obviously. You don't know why you didn't see that coming. Evidently, even though his family was just his dad and him, they always did something big. They decorated the house and got a big tree and went all out, and sometimes they'd invite friends over or they're go out to parties and they'd donate gifts to the less well-off, etc. etc.. So in a fit, he invited you up to Washington for the holidays, and you politely declined.

Then his dad called your house and talked to Bro about the whole ordeal and before you fucking knew what was happening, the two of you were stepping off the plane and you were carrying the plushest suitcase you've ever encountered, and you know it's Bro's, and you know what's in it, and you wonder if Bro only accepted coming simply to get kicked out.

Snow is already falling here, which you guess is actually normal since it's December and stuff. There are so many fucking cars outside the air port that you can't even imagine this many people wanted to be in Washington for their holiday. You can see John jumping out of a mini van, and man can you imagine his old man driving a mini van, and you immediately hand Bro his plush bag, which almost causes him to drop other stuff, and he graces you with a scowl. You don't have time to think about it before John is all up in your grills, blabbering away a mile a minute, somehow more animated in the flesh than he'd always been online or through video chats.

Bro is smirking at you, of fucking course he is, and John has both your hands in his and he's wearing fucking _mittens_ , but it's nice and warm against your bare flesh, so you let it slide this time.

"Oh, man, sorry guys!! This is probably, like, super cold for you, huh! Let's get back to the house, and we'll start a fire and stuff!" He gives the two of you a big grin, showing off the braces he just got in November that are blue because, y'know, he's gotta be a fucking five year old or something.

As you start heading back to the car, Bro shoves some bags back at you, but is polite enough to carry his own. You cram them into the back of the van (well, okay, you place them, with plenty of room to spare) before Bro takes the passenger seat, literally shoving you out of the way to take it, and you sit in the back with John, who's still all lit with excitement and going on and on about all the rad bro adventures the two of you will have.

"And I'm pretty sure it's gonna snow enough by tomorrow that we can probably make snow forts and have a totally rad snowball fight and, uh, make snowmen? That's ironic right?"

You almost smirk, but it crosses your mind that Bro would probably somehow notice, and you'd never hear the end of it. "Totes," you answer instead, and he grins at you.

 

"Dad wanted to have both of you sleep in the spare room, but I bargained with him! I couldn't imagine you and your bro sleeping in the same room. You'd strife for the bed and wreck the house and you'd wake up full of puppets and stuff. I took pity on you," he throws a pillow at you, but you catch it in the air.

"That's real sweet and all, but I can take the floor," you assure, but he shakes his head.

"No way man, it's gonna be cold on the floor. It's fine, I'm used to it! The last thing we need is you getting sick for our Christmas together!"

You roll your eyes, but decidedly curl up on the bed in a heap, not even bothering to get out of your clothes. You hear him scoff from the floor before the rustling of fabric alerts you that he's curling up into his floor nest.

 

The next morning, you almost flinch to find yourself with a face full of Egbert's shirt. You blink a few times into the vast expanse of blue until he lets out a giddy little giggle, and you almost draw back in shock. "Dude, that tickles!"

"Sup?" You respond lamely.

He's a little higher on the bed, and he has his head propped up in his hand, and he smiles down at you before he guides you to turn around and face the window, and you blink a few times into the brightness. "It's snowing," he answers, and carefully lies back down, nestling his face between your head and shoulder.

"Shit, so it is. Looks cold," you comment dumbly, and he lets out an earnest laugh.

"I love when it snows this close to Christmas! Is this your first time seeing snow?"

"Yeah..." you murmur, hoping he can't see the wide-eyed look you're giving the white coating outside.

"Mmm," he hums, and you feel him relaxing against you, "it's still snowing pretty hard, so let's just stay in for a while until it gets to be better snow fort weather."

"Yeah, cool, sounds good," you agree, stiffening as he drapes an arm around your side like it's no big deal at all. "Uh, hey, John?" You mumble, and he just hums a little into your neck. "Hey?" You repeat, and you feel him stir from his sleepiness to start pulling away.

"Yeah. Whoa. Sorry," you catch his arm before he can pull away from you.

"No what. It's fine. I guess."

"No, sorry. It's like that instinct to huddle for warmth or whatever."

"Dude, I said it's fine. Just. Do I really have to be the little spoon?"

He lets out a puff of a laugh right in your ear, and you hope he doesn't notice the goosebumps slowly spreading all across you. "It's not ironic or anything?" He asks, mustering shock into his voice.

"It's a little ironic. That's why I said it's fine."

"Are you sure," he asks, even though he's already starting to relax back into you.

"Dude. So sure," you think your voice almost cracks, and you hope he doesn't notice, but with your close proximity there's no way he doesn't.

"Yeah?" He snickers, and shit of course he noticed.

"Shut up and fucking snuggle," you mutter, yanking his arm now to pull him in closer, and he lets out another breathy laugh into your neck, and you practically shiver.

"Dave?" He starts, and you resolve to either ruin it or simply not be outdone.

"I love you," you mumble, turning shame-faced into the pillow under you, and his arm tightens around you.

"Wow. Thank god," normally you'd think he was being snippy with you, but the way he says it assures you he isn't. You relax again and allow yourself to sleep in, reveling in the warmth of the space against the cold thoughts of outside.

You guess you can figure the rest out at a later point in time when you're less ready to doze off. You'll have plenty of time, anyway.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are saved to my computer as "tis the season to be shitty 1&2"

"Morning, sleepy head!!" You hear before suddenly earthquakes. You jolt upright to find that John has just thrown himself on the bed to wake you. You're shades are crooked, and you can feel the weird indent they left on your skin for having tried to sleep with them on, and you can also feel where your hair is sticking up at weird angles.

"What fucking time is it?" You mumble, rubbing your eyes.

"Dude, it's already 3 in the afternoon. Dad woke me up at noon, but I didn't have the heart to wake you. I thought you'd wake up on your own eventually, but your brother said you'd probably sleep for days," you try to stretch without actually stretching, because you're pretty sure stretching is one of those things that no one can do coolly, like sneezing and yawning. He's situating himself again and leaning over you to the bedside table, before he's suddenly seated in your lap like he owns the place and holding a mug out to you. You don't like coffee really, but again, you guess it's cool, so you accept it.

"Thanks, sweet cheeks," you mean to make it sound completely sarcastic, but it just comes out in a sleepy murmur, but by the look he gives you, you know he gets the point.

As you take your first careful sip, he adds, "it's hot cocoa," and you are surprised to find that that is indeed what it is. "You don't like coffee, right?" He smiles sheepishly, and you look at him over your sunglasses. "Um, I remember that whenever I talked to you while you were visiting Rose, you would be complaining about the tea you drank in the morning? And I know that Rose keeps coffee, so I imagined that you liked tea more than coffee, although maybe you don't like either really. So I bought caffeinated hot cocoa. Don't even tell me you don't like hot cocoa, I made it with milk and everything."

You let out a huff of a laugh, and take another sip. "Who the fuck doesn't like hot cocoa?"

He gives you a fond kind of smile that looks oddly foreign but also just right, before he's climbing out of your lap and apologizing. "We're spending today inside, then tomorrow for Christmas Eve we'll go to a party or two and also donate some stuff, and then Christmas morning we'll spend inside and maybe go out for the afternoon or something, maybe more parties or volunteering, I don't really know what Dad has planned," he explains as you finish off your cocoa and start getting out of bed, feeling awkward in yesterdays clothes. John is wearing the least or most ironic Christmas sweater you've ever seen. "And according to your brother, you guys don't actually have a set time you plan on leaving yet, so I guess everything after that is up in the oh wow okay that's cool too," he spins on his heels to face the door when you take off your shirt to start rummaging for something else to wear for the day.

You raise an eyebrow at him, watching with curiosity. "Egbert, I'm changing my shirt and pants. You really don't have to turn away. I don't have anything you've never seen before - at least I hope not."

"Shut up oh my god just shut up okay wow," he huffs out, and you can see his ears turning red.

"You are such an innocent maiden, Egbert, I swear."

"WOW shut up Dave just wow just shut up," he repeats, and you shift back up from looking through your bag so you can come up behind him and lean into him a little, and he stiffens.

"Hey, Egbert, can I borrow an ugly sweater?"

"Okay, first of all, it's not ugly, Dave, it's festive. Second, what part of "wow Dave shut up" don't you get?"

"The part where I stop teasing you," you answer without missing a beat.

"Okay, Dave, whatever, you can borrow an ugly sweater or whatever, just please stop. Being all. There. And stuff, okay?"

"What?" You mutter, and he flinches a little.

"There. Like, here. I mean like, right there. Like, all up against me, I mean," he explains further.

"What? Why? I can't touch you all of the sudden?"

"No. Well, yes. I mean..." he sighs, fidgeting more and not tearing his eyes from the door.

"Are you worried about Bro or your old man or something? I'm gonna be honest, Bro won't give a shit, and I can't imagine your old man would care that much anyway." There's a long, dense pause in the room, and you carefully wrap your arms around his waist, and he flinches the kind of flinch that you can tell he doesn't know if he wants to lean in or pull away. "About us. I mean," you add carefully.

He buries his face in his hands with the heaviest sigh, "oh my gosh, you totally remember."

"Remember? Dude, it was this morning. I was tired, I wasn't fucking drunk."

"Shut. Up. I just. I don't know, I thought maybe you thought it was a dream or it didn't happen or something, okay, you were acting so calm and casual!"

"I'm," you start.

"A coolkid, I know, but there are limits okay? That was like the most nerve wracking 10-20 minutes of my entire life. And then it was like hey, suddenly Dave is shirtless, I guess that's cool. Totally cool. I'm the epitome of cool. Almost as cool as a Strider, even. So cool."

"Yeah?" You tease, and he answers by dropping all his weight into you so you both almost go tumbling to the floor.

"So in other news, Dad found us tangled in the same bed, so he might have an inkling as to the exact details of our current relations, and your brother is your brother so lets not even talk about that side of the front," he goes on (cool as ice).

"Stellar. So today is _get hyped up on caffeinated cocoa and built snowmen_ day or something, right?"

"Actually, the snow was pretty wet, and it kind of iced over instead, so no snow shenanigans, really. We can go ice skating at the rink, though, if you want?" You pull a face that he can't see, since you're still holding him in front of you. "But caffeinated cocoa can totally be a thing, and maybe some Christmas movies, too! First, I think you should probably get dressed, though."

"Can I--"

"You can totally borrow an ugly sweater. There's a drawer under my bed that's the Christmas drawer. You can take your pick. I'll... make more cocoa, I guess," he leaves to do just that, and you turn around to sift through the drawer in question. The drawer is ridiculous.

What even are Christmas pants, you had no idea Christmas pants were even a real thing. They're hideous, and you couldn't even pull them off ironically. Instead you pull on a sweater with a significant amount of green that you match up with one of your pairs of red skinny jeans. You find some stupid little Christmas tree cell phone strap-like things that Egbert has at least 5 of and secure one to each side of your shades.

By the time he returns with two mugs, you're seated in front of his bed also wrapped in silver and green garland, with little bows of tinsel in your hair, and some stupid headband with a wire dangling over it, holding mistletoe.

"Wow, you sure do clean up well, Dave," John giggles, setting the mugs down on the ground so he can sit in front of you.

"You know it," you adjust your shades, and he gives you a big smile again, braces bared and all. "I'm pretty sure you owe me something," you beckon him with an index finger, and he raises his eyebrows before handing you a cup of cocoa. You roll your eyes even though you know he can't tell. "Dude," you tilt your head, ignoring the drink.

"Dude?" He repeats, his eyebrows dropping into serious consideration, before they fly back up. "Oh!! Ahaha... um, really??"

"What the fuck, really?" You mutter back, and he scoots a fraction of a centimeter closer. "Egebrt, I'm waiting. Mistletoe and all."

"Shut up. Where did that mistletoe rule even come from. I've never kissed anyone under mistletoe before, okay. It's intimidating."

"Why do you even own this thing?"

"I don't know, it was a gift, I never wore it before. I think you're the only person ever who has worn one of those in the history of forever."

You raise an eyebrow and he carefully scoots closer so he's between your legs and gives one last scared little glance back at the door like someone walking in would really even matter, before very tentatively placing his hands on your chest and leaning in, looking entirely confused by the art of kissing.

You assist him in tilting his head and make sure to be careful of his teeth and, yeesh, especially his braces as you guide him into your first kiss and your first (and hopefully last, even) mistletoe kiss. His carefully touch turns into a careful grasp, and the kiss only lasts about three seconds before giggles are bubbling up his throat and into your mouth and you can no longer take it seriously.

"Jesus, Egbert," you mutter, and he finally pulls away to keep his giggling in his own mouth.

"Sorry. Jeez, sorry! You're wearing a garland and there's tinsel everywhere and the mistletoe keeps tickling my head!" You take off the stupid thing and try to unknot the tinsel from your hair while he unwinds the garland from around you. "I'm not sure you can imagine how long I've... really wanted to kiss you," he adds sheepishly. "But, like, how do you even bring that up, right? To your internet bro. It's not like one day during a video chat I could be like, hey, also Dave, i would like to tenderly kiss you sometime, if that's cool?"

"You shoulda," you snicker, and he gives you a soft shove. "Anyway, I probably have a good grasp on how you feel."

Another smile warms his face. "Yeah?"

".... You know what, Egbert. Shut up."

"I don't think our fist kiss could have possibly been better, by the way. If it makes you feel better?"

"You taste like toothpaste, do you even rinse your mouth or do you just guzzle toothpaste?" You mumble, leaning your head into his shoulder and he laughs.

"You taste like cocoa," he adds, and there's a pause with the realization of how intimate the discussion of taste is. "Um, I think Dad was thinking about decorating the tree today," he adds, holding up the garland, "we can help with that today, too."

You take up your cup of cocoa now that it's just the right temperature, and nod a little. "Yeah. Sounds cool."

"So cool," he teases, and you don't have the heart to snip back at him, instead taking a ship of your cocoa and giving him a look until he awkwardly removes himself from between your legs and you grace him with one last smirk before you need to pokerface for the rest of the day.


End file.
